Mischief's Vigilante
by Peridot15
Summary: AU. Harry Potter is tired of being treated unfairly. As a result, a prankster is born on 4 Privet Drive. Beware anyone with ill intentions; the-Boy-Who-Lived will serve justice the best way he knows how - with a whoopee cushion. DISCONTINUED.
1. His Reason

Harry James Potter was fed up with life.

Not only had it given him a big fat kick in the arse, but it allowed constant abuse, bludgeoning, and starvation to reach him. To put it shortly, life was not good for a certain seven year old. He suffered every day and night whether it was from starvation, bullying, or general maltreatment.

A bitter tendril of emotion wrapped it clutched around his young mind as he watched his spoiled cousin, Dudley Dursley, open his birthday presents lovingly given to him.

Love that he'd never feel firsthand.

He sighed silently with self pity. Everything went wrong in his life. He wasn't acknowledged; he was ignored. He knew or at least felt that what the Dursleys were putting him through was illegal. But who would listen to a seven year old?

No one, that's who.

So it dawned on him that he had to solve his problem another way. Righting his maltreatment would be a huge improvement but Harry knew it was an impossible dream.

So that left the other option: revenge. If he was going to go down, he was going to bring his oppressors down with him. Harry was very intelligent for his age; intelligence that wasn't put to use.

But now it would in his most daring decision of his seven years. Harry James Potter's spirit was reborn in that of a prankster.

Beware citizens of 4 Privet Drive.

* * *

Harry's nerves jingled with excitement and anticipation. A few weeks later, after careful planning and observation he was enacting his first prank, his own sweet justice.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing it.

He couldn't believe the feeling of an adventure, of self satisfaction was finally within his grasp. Maybe life had more in store for him than he originally thought. A sly smirk graced his lips; a facial expression that appeared more often on the seven year old's face.

But he knew to hide it in the face of company. He liked to think of himself as smart and sneaky.

And so here he was, hiding in the tiny bathroom across from his even smaller cupboard. The light was off, pressing Harry into obsolete darkness. But if he didn't want to be caught and punished, he had to be as invisible as a ghost. Or to tone down his feelings as was his intentions by staking out in the loo.

He'd made note of and calculated various things highly important to his prank. He even went to his maths teacher for help in some of the calculations. Who knew a prankster would need maths? He had laughed at the irony. The target of this prank was Dudley and so entailing his aunt and uncle.

He'd been a silent spectator as Petunia had unconsciously followed at food routine. He saw what she bought each time and what products Dudley ate. Of all of them, Dudley treasured the Mars Bars the most. So in the dead of night, Harry had crept out of his cupboard and stolen all the Mars Bars.

He was lucky his family had forgotten to lock his door or else he'd have been toast and so would his diligently planned prank.

After rounding up the candy, Harry stole away up the stairs as silent as a predator hunting its prey. He'd snuck into Dudley's other room where his precious PlayStation sat and had cautiously removed the batteries.

After finding a good hiding spot for them in the trash, he proceeded to fill the battery box with as much Mars Bars as he could. There had been three that wouldn't fit. Harry had reluctantly put those back. He couldn't have any suspicion poking through on him.

His aunt and uncle would only think Dudley had eaten them all already, which wasn't uncommon. He rewarded himself with a smirk. He'd killed two birds with one stone. Dudley would be furious and somehow come up with the delusion that his parents were to blame.

And so, Harry's aunt and uncle would be distracted trying to fix and investigate into Dudley's 'problem'. Harry, of course, knew they wouldn't find anything. He'd hidden his tracks very well.

Now settling back into his cupboard, he finally put his adrenaline ridden nerves to rest, saving them exclusively for the hilarity that was going to ensue tomorrow.

* * *

And ensue did it.

Harry had collapsed on the bathroom floor, rolling in his own laughter. Dudley, purple in the face, yelled profusely at his parents after encountering his almost empty Mars Bar stash. It had only increased when he realized his PlayStation wouldn't work.

Suffice to say, Petunia and Vernon Dursley fell asleep that night very shaken and rugged. Harry had enjoyed watching them. They had totally forgotten about him, allowing him to sneak food and avoid his chores. He'd finally gotten a free day dedicated to him.

Revenge was sweet and so was justice.

But he wasn't doing it for the revenge, he realized now. He loved the feeling of control. He reveled in it. For once in his life, something was within his grasp. He could finally affect things around him. After so many years of being denied that simple freedom, he finally felt free.

He felt like a young hatchling that had just discovered his wings. Not only that, but he enjoyed and relished in the reactions his pranks caused. He loved seeing the different forms of human emotion, portrayed hilariously by his own unknowing family.

That was why he officially took up the mantle of a prankster. Stopping wasn't anywhere on his plans. Pranking was his savior, his dream, his hobby. It was quickly becoming the world to him. A world where all love and happiness ceased to touch him.

But now something had; a love of trickery.

* * *

Harry panicked.

He may be a rising prankster in the making, but he wasn't invincible. Whether he liked to believe it or not, he was still vulnerable to Dudley and his cronies. They had always bullied him nonstop even participating in a game they named 'Harry Hunting'.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise that they'd come looking for him. Harry was at school. The elementary school was perhaps the only place that welcomed him. He may not have any friends due to Dudley's influence, but the teachers and adults respected him.

They were friendly and helpful to him. And that was precisely why they allowed him to take refuge in their classrooms. It was during recess and seeing as Harry had no one to play with; he'd asked to stay in a class room 'studying'. He wasn't really but saying that would earn him favor.

His maths teacher, a scruffy man in his mid thirties, had brightened up at Harry's 'eager' interest in learning. So he immediately obliged, never even suspecting the lie. In actuality, Harry was scheming for his next prank. The PlayStation had been fixed as well as the Mars Bar shortage.

And Harry doesn't perform a prank without a reason. It just so happened that a reason appeared within his grasp every day. The Dursleys' had said they weren't going to feed him for five days because Dudley had told them something.

Harry didn't know what, but he was planning on getting his vengeance on the other boy anyway. He was tired of being belittled and insulted! He was going to be like a rebel and stand up for himself.

Albeit, secretly but he was still doing it nonetheless!

In the middle of reviewing his prank options, a loud creak had sounded behind him. He had whipped around faster than a bullet, expecting Dudley and his goons. His guess wasn't off. He heard Dudley's loud obnoxious voice demanding that his buddies find Harry to give him a 'present'.

Snickers had met the statement and off they went. Harry had completely frozen, his mind going blank. He just stood there as each person searched the school for him. The door was closed and the small rectangular window wasn't within vantage point of him, but the door wasn't locked.

They could easily open it and find him. Hysteria cackled at the edges of Harry's mind. The very thing he said he was rebelling against was happening before Harry could do anything about it.

Despair lingered on his thoughts as he stood stock-still, too shocked and scared to move. He didn't want them to find him. He couldn't afford that! They'd beat him to a bloody pulp like every other time! Fear grappled with his mind. It tore and ripped through his body, numbing every muscle, every nerve.

Yet a part of his mind was defiant. It wanted to move- to fight back! Harry wished it could wholly consume him. He wished for the courage to do something. Heavy foot falls grew steadily closer. He didn't have much time before he met with an undesirable fate.

His eyes hardened. Submitting would be putting all of his work to waste! His newfound confidence would shrivel and wither until it was no more! He couldn't let this happen to him. He couldn't let this incessant abuse continue! But even so, what could he do?

The footsteps had stopped at the door, his only escape route. The door knob was even squeaking open! Harry gulped, despite all of the courage that he'd been able to call up.

But thankfully, some things weren't meant to happen.

Harry suddenly jumped behind the desk and squeezed his eyes shut, just as the door slammed open. He wished fervently to be anywhere but there- anywhere at all! His arms wrapped around themselves begging- pleading- for safety; for help!

And just as that thought rolled over him, he felt a distinct light feeling come over him. It pounded throughout his body and caressed his mind, giving Harry a feeling of temporary bliss.

And then it stopped.

Blinking, Harry fearfully opened his eyes. And almost fell over in shock at the sight before him. He was on the roof. How did he get here? What happened? But his confusion was overruled by relief. He was safe! He would no longer get beat up to a bloody pulp!

Sighing with shaky alleviation, he stood up. A breeze wrapped around, pushing around his messy raven locks and freezing the sweat on his forehead.

He looked around once more, as if to confirm he was really on the roof. He bent down to touch the pristine concrete to make sure this wasn't a dream. And boy was he glad to feel the smooth, hard surface.

He smiled and stood back up. But just as he resumed his full height, the bell toned- signaling the end of recess.

Harry's eyes widened. He had to get back down!

His eyes searched frantically for a door on the roof, but that was the one feature it did not have. Icy panic ran in shivers down his back. If he wasn't in that classroom by the time Mr. Williams reentered, he'd loose all credibility with the teacher!

He had to get down there and down there fast. But the question was how? He couldn't jump unless he wanted to die. There was no door and while he was adept at climbing, the school didn't have very many footholds to make sure he didn't slip.

What was he going to do?

But in the midst of his stress, his mind remembered something; recalled the same feeling he experienced from earlier. Harry blinked and stopped his worry. Could it work? Could it possibly work? Was that feeling from earlier his savior? Did that feeling bring him here on the roof?

Harry took a deep breath and decided to test his luck. He closed his eyes and did the best he could to call up that feeling again. He visualized it, reexamined it, and even underwent the motions of the sensation again!

And it paid off.

The feeling washed over him once again just as he wished to be back in the classroom. He felt like he floating in the air for a minute, before his feet came into contact with a hard surface once more.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes once again- wanting to believe so badly it had worked. As his eyes took in the view before him, he grinned and almost jumped for joy.

He was back in the classroom! He did it!

Later, he would wonder how it was that he could teleport places but his attention was currently transfixed by something- or rather someone- in front of him.

His maths teacher, Mr. Williams, was staring at him with openly displayed awe.

Cold dread welled up within Harry.

How was he going to explain this one when even _he_ didn't even know himself?

* * *

**AN: Blame plot bunnies on this one. But even so, should I continue this? XD PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	2. His Quickening

Matthew Williams was not having a good day.

Really, he never had a good day in the company of muggles, but he had to bear with it. He was in hiding; hiding from the Wizarding World. And where better for a supposed pureblood supremist to hide than the muggle world?

It was ingenious no matter how boring and infuriating it was. All it took was one thought on what might happen if he was found alive to shut him up. Now he wasn't a coward or anything, but he wasn't exactly high up on the friend list of Albus Dumbledore nor Voldemort and his followers.

He betrayed them after all.

But they didn't exactly know why and Dumbledore and his cronies didn't either. And he had no intention on letting them in on that particular secret either.

Unfortunately though, the reason he supposedly died for was never accomplished. He tried for success many a time, but the attempts were fruitless. He may have been let in on Voldemort's dirty little secret, but he didn't know what to do about it.

And he wasn't about to gift Dumbledore with that knowledge either. So he decided to lay low and hide. At least until Voldemort rose again.

He knew that Harry Potter had supposedly killed the Dark Lord, heck the wizards were practically shouting it out for the whole world to hear on that fateful day. But he knew the truth. Voldemort was still out there, waiting, plotting to come back.

No one's seen the last of that monster yet.

And, unfortunately, he couldn't do a thing about it. Not unless he found a way to destroy those _things._ He sighed and sat back on his desk. This wasn't the time to be dwelling on the past right now. He had a _class _to teach. He scowled.

He hated his job.

He didn't like teaching a bunch of spoiled brats' stuff that they would forget the next instance. If he could choose, he would have chosen to teach kids higher up on maturity levels. But his knowledge of maths only went so far. And so he was stuck with a class of seven and eight year olds.

He didn't know _how_ his professors back at Hogwarts dealt with this kind of crap everyday.

The only interesting aspect of the job was that Harry Potter had ended up in his class. When he had first read the roster, he couldn't believe his luck.

The Wizarding World's supposed savior in a muggle maths class?

His smile had been a feral one. It seemed that Dumbledore was trying to keep the boy in the dark. Manipulating old sod. The boy really didn't know anything about his heritage; all he really seemed to care about was running away from his cousin Dudley.

He was a shy one; something that would only impair him in life. But then something had changed. The boy had obtained confidence from who knows where. He smirked more often, approached people more assertively (even if it was only the adults).

He truly changed his demeanor.

That being said, Matthew wondered if he discovered his heritage. And that was seemingly confirmed when the boy apparated into the classroom right in front of him.

Matthew gaped.

Apparition at that age? So the boy is powerful then, even if it was just a spurt of accidental magic.

The boy didn't notice him yet, but he seemed relieved about something. That is until he saw Matthew. His eyes bugged out in horror and Matthew could see the panic swirling behind his eyes. And so he laughed. The boy looked on at him warily, fearful and confused.

But before Matthew could get a single word out, his class filed in obnoxiously and took their seats. Dudley and his gang were scowling immensely, and it only intensified when they saw Harry safe and sound. Matthew followed their lead, thinking that this was the worst timing in the world.

But soon, he got over it and shushed the class down. He couldn't wait until the end of the day_. _

_Mr. Potter has a lot of explaining to do_, he thought with a vicious smirk.

Students seeing his smirk cowered in their seats, wondering what had gotten into their teacher.

* * *

Harry was jittery the rest of the day, dreadfully awaiting the end of the day.

He didn't know what to think about the situation he had gotten himself into. At one point, Mr. Williams was gaping at him and then at another he was laughing. He was sincerely hoping and wishing that Mr. Williams wouldn't approach him, wouldn't bother him, wouldn't tell the Dursleys'.

And from what he knew of the man, that shouldn't be the case. The man was witty and sarcastic, which was why Harry liked him, and he wasn't evil or mean. But after today's display, he wondered if the man actually did have another side to him.

And another thing was when people see the impossible right in front of their eyes they freak out. Or at least that was what Harry had been taught. And so once again, he was questioning if Mr. Williams was more than he seemed.

It certainly fit the bill.

But even so, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. One part of him was immensely curious but the other part of him wanted to stay out of trouble and go home. And be safe. Harry immediately dispelled the thought. He didn't want to be a coward anymore!

He would face this challenge head on without fear! Or at least he hoped he would. And that was why he found himself hesitating when the class was let go for the day. He was partly waiting for the teacher to approach him and partly hanging behind to confront Mr. Williams. He sighed.

Just when he had gained some confidence, everything went out of whack.

"Harry, stay behind." A smooth voice behind him declared.

Harry stiffened and turned around to face the small, fat man. In truth he looked like he could be Santa Claus' evil twin. He had black hair connected to a black mustache and beard, both of which were graying. And he had this slightly sinister outlook on everything, hence the sarcasm.

But the only thing missing was the unfriendliness which he just happened to be oozing in this very second.

Harry's eyes were about to drop to the floor until he recalled his issue. He boldly raised his eyes up to the man's; he would no longer be intimidated. He was done with that; this was partly the reason he decided to become a prankster! He needed to dig up some courage; some confidence!

And he had but the minute Dudley had come after him earlier today, he'd almost wet his pants. No more, he decided. This was the last time he'd be a timid little coward. There were a lot of things scarier than his cousin.

"I must say I was impressed when you apparated today. I knew you'd be powerful but that's a feat for one so young."

He smirked at Harry in a knowing manner.

_Huh? What's he talking about? Apparating? _Harry blinked back at him, puzzled.

"Um…what, sir?" He asked, looking up at the man weirdly.

Mr. Williams seemed kind of surprised as if he'd thought Harry would know what he was talking about. He looked down at Harry, analyzing him. Harry's first instincts were to fidget, but he pushed those down.

_No more_, he told himself. _No more fear_.

"Apparating is a form of teleportation that wizards and witches use. By the way you were using it; I thought you knew what it was called."

Harry just stared at him incredulously.

_Wizards and witches? Does he mean magic?_

Just by looking at his expression, Matthew could tell he was the one that was going to end up explaining everything. He almost face palmed. Just what had he gotten himself into? But he slowly smirked. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage.

"Believe it or not there is a secret magical world…"

* * *

_**A few years later...**_

"_What do you mean my trousers are pink_!?" Vernon Dursley roared, his purple face absolutely livid.

The man in front of him felt slightly scared at the big man screaming up a storm. He really didn't know what happened, truly!

"W-well, s-sir when we washed your trousers they came out p-pink-"

"_Then find a way to fix them, you moron_!"

Vernon shoved the hot pink pairs of trousers into the man's undefended chest. The man stumbled back slightly at the impact. Fear welled up slightly in him as he realized what steps they'd have to take to remove the pink dye.

And the expenses.

Quivering from the impact as well as his own panic, the small man delivered the honest, terrible truth.

"_I_ have to pay for them? It was _your_ bloody company's fault!"

Vernon slammed his beefy hands on the counter, unconsciously making it rattle. The man shivered at the strength the man displayed.

Note to self: Huge, fat blonde men are extremely angry wasps on the loose. In the midst of the yelling, no one saw a small, black haired boy laughing silently right outside the little shop.

Nor did anyone see him disappear into thin air.

* * *

"_Vernon! What are you wearing?!_" Petunia screamed as soon as she caught sight of her husband trying to walk discreetly up the driveway. He cursed outright, his face reddening in unbridled anger.

"It was those bloody washers! They did this!"

Petunia's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Those are _absolutely_ horrid! Won't you get some new trousers?"

Vernon grumbled under his breath as his rotund body came closer to the house. Petunia couldn't help but stare at the hot pink trousers squeezing his large legs.

_Squeezing? _

Her eyes widened and she glanced around to see if the neighbors had seen anything. A breath of relief came from her mouth when she saw no windows or doors open nor any other people outside.

"Vernon!" She shrieked. "Those are too tight! Take them off immediately! I will not have you walking around the zoo like that. Especially not for Duddy's eleventh birthday!"

Vernon looked down and sure enough he saw the reason for why he felt claustrophobic. The trousers encased his legs a bit too tightly, giving any onlooker a view that they'd prefer not to see. His fists clenched in explosive rage.

"_Those bloody washers!"_

* * *

"Did it work?" Matthew Williams asked the eleven year old boy who just appeared in his living room.

The boy smirked and replied, "Yep. He didn't know what was coming to him."

Matthew laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Really now? So I suppose you've mastered that spell?"

The boy grinned. "Well there aren't many more I can teach you before you go to Hogwarts. It would be a bit suspicious if you knew anymore seventh year spells wouldn't it?"

The boy snorted.

"Like I'd show them I knew. They didn't even tell me what I was before dumping me with _them._"

The boy's tone turned bitter and icy towards the end. Matthew nodded, his own expression turning sour. He never approved of Dumbledore's choice, but he couldn't do anything about it unless he wished to be revealed. He was sure the wizard would be able to see through his glamour charm no matter how strong.

"Make sure you hide that wand, too. In fact, why don't you leave that with me? It can be your summer wand." He finished with his lips slightly curled upward.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Why should I do that? A wand is a wand."

At this, Matthew scowled.

"I told you how much of a manipulating old sod he was didn't I? So knowing him, he'd probably snatch your wand at one point to put tracking charms or something like that on it. Then where will you be once he finds out it was made in Knockturn Alley? He'd keep an even closer eye on you and find out about your extra…ability."

The boy grimaced. He put his ebony wand back in his pocket and plopped down carelessly on the plump, leather chair.

"You're paranoid. That will not happen." He said nonchalantly running his eyes over the various trinkets displayed in Matthew's living room.

Across from him, Matthew sat in the middle of a matching leather couch raising his eyebrow at him.

"Yes I know I am, Harry. I told you about the war, did I not?"

Harry's gaze swept over the moving portraits depicting his teacher's family as well as the old, antique fireplace resting in between the portraits.

"Yeah, you told me practically everything I know."

At this, Harry stood up.

"Well, I have to go. Dudley's having his eleventh birthday party later and I have to do the preparing even though we're going to the _zoo_." Harry scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Later, R.A.B."

He smirked once more before disappearing from view, a little something he called 'Jumping'. Regulus Arcturus Black smiled.

That kid was really something.

* * *

AN: I can't believe I updated this early. Something must be wrong with me. O_O But anyway I hoped you liked it. :) And surprise, anyone? XD PLEASE REVIEW! And thank all of you that reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! =D

~Peridot15:)


	3. His Justice

"Boy, no _funny_ business. Or you won't get any food for an entire _week_."

Vernon's face twisted into a delighted sneer. He let go of the tufts of black hair he hoisted up from Harry and fumbled into the drivers' seat, leaving Harry to enter the backseat. Harry settled in on the right side, ignoring Dudley's attempts at taunting him as he had for years now.

Harry gazed out the window, nonplussed by the threats coming from both parties, and looked for Regulus' house. Perhaps he would go there for most of the zoo visit. He didn't particularly fancy hanging out with his oaf of a cousin and his ogre friends.

Or perhaps…His lips spread into a grin.

Yes, what a perfect plan. It was only about two or so months before he ended up going there anyway. Surely he could just take a visit to the place where magic was taught and learned?

After all, no one would miss him; no one would see him. He would be invisible within the school walls, exploring the very building. Regulus had said it was a castle, which made it all the more fun. And besides, he kind of wanted to see the manipulating old coot Regulus always went on about.

Maybe pay him back for sending him to his beloved 'family'. He smirked and leaned back comfortably into the cushioned seat; the plan was set.

* * *

"Oooh! Look at the snake!"

Even though Harry didn't care very much, his gaze slid over to the snake. The encaged reptile was sleeping, his brown spotted tail hanging off the edge of the rock. Bored already, Harry looked away.

They had arrived not even five minutes ago to the place of encaged, screeching animals before Harry decided he didn't like it. Just as he was caged, so were they.

And a fellow prisoner didn't exactly oogle and ogle at his or her kin.

Harry glanced around the dim room, looking for a suitable distraction. He had to escape discreetly, with no witnesses whatsoever. He could probably just head off to the bathroom and Jump there but where was the finesse in that?

It was so utterly boring. His escape was going to be _James Bond _worthy.

He smirked and continued his search. Heck, he could even escape under the guise of being injured…but no because then the Dursleys' would be entitled to come with him to wherever. So what then? He gazed around the room once more.

Dudley and his friend, Piers Polkiss, were yelling at the sleeping snake, even going as far to drag Vernon and Petunia into their 'problem'. Harry no longer thought of them as Aunt and Uncle. They had no right to the title. In fact, they were repeatedly being served justice whenever he saw a reason for it.

And unfortunately for them, that was practically every day.

"Oi! Wake up!" Vernon shouted, tapping the glass window.

Harry raised an eyebrow, amused. The snake probably didn't like that, did it? Harry certainly knew_ he_ didn't. Perhaps if he- his eyes flashed gleefully. The perfect distraction was right there in front of him the whole time. He hid behind the cage to another tropical animal and discreetly pulled out his ebony wand.

The wand felt warm in his hands, just as it should. He called forth some of his magic and muttered a spell, flicking his wand. Regulus said that his magic wasn't strong enough for wandless and wordless spells yet, so Harry resorted to muttering them as quietly as he could.

As soon as Dudley and Vernon stood about tapping the glass cage again, it happened. The cage began to crack and shatter into tiny glass pieces, leaving father and son at the mercy of the boa constrictor. Dudley and Vernon began fearfully backing up, a curious yellow liquid leaking down Dudley's pants.

The boa simply blinked in surprise at the humans whimpering in front of him. But then he hissed, flicking his forked tongue, and slithered out from his cage. That was when the screaming and screeching round began. His body slapped the ground, his head snapping at the heels of the scared humans.

They shrieked and backed away as if they were stepping barefoot on hot coals. But the boa didn't mind. In fact, that was to his advantage. Chaos descended upon the room as the animal handlers and visitors collided, the former trying to dash in and the latter desperately trying to run away.

All because of one snake.

Harry slipped out through the back door. The door slammed shut behind him just as he Jumped, running through everything Regulus had told him about his destination.

_"Castle…lake…manipulating old sod…village right beside…"_

Temporary bliss pounded through him as the usual lightweight sensation that accompanied his mode of transportation activated. He sighed; that feeling never got old. Even Regulus admitted he wouldn't mind feeling it again. But soon enough, it started to fade as he landed.

His feet touched solid ground once more, allowing his eyes to curiously roam over his surroundings. His breath hitched.

The castle was truly amazing.

Giddiness entered his bloodstream. He desperately wanted to get inside to explore! All those rooms, secret passageways, everything! He grinned at the huge, elegant structure. The grey stone surrounded at least seven stories and that didn't even include the towers!

This building was perfect for pranks! He looked behind him.

A huge, glittering lake resided in front of a forest, both of which seemed to be located on a hill. But Harry didn't mind that; it just meant that it would be perfect for snowboarding.

_Oh wait a minute…_

Harry stopped mid turn and cast another glance at the lake. An idea rapidly forming in his mind, he quickly summoned a pail and dipped it in water. The water filled the bucket to the brim. Smirking, he put a lid on the bucket, shrunk it, and Jumped.

The old codger would never see what was coming to him.

* * *

It was just as Harry predicted.

The castle had many secret passageways. Harry had already found four ingrained in the very stone walls and one was even behind a moving portrait or two! Harry knew there was an infinite amount that he could discover but he was on a tight schedule.

He'd already wasted three minutes. He probably only had a few more before he had to Jump back to the zoo.

Maneuvering under the moving staircases, he Jumped to the Headmaster's office. He didn't exactly know what it looked like or where it was but he didn't need to. All he needed was a few words describing his destination and he was off. His feet landed softly onto a carpeted floor, his eyes drinking in the room.

It was a circular space with a mini library on the right side and a sort of playground on the left. The playground consisted of numerous spindly tables holding an abundance of huffing and puffing silver instruments; Harry was itching to touch them, but he reigned in that urge.

A mahogany desk sat in the middle with papers and such piled on top. Two chairs were located in front and one resting behind.

Harry's gaze slid further to the left to where he saw moving portraits- _crap._

He immediately whipped out his wand and cast a Notice-Me-Not spell. Once that was accomplished, he put the wand away and testily stepped in front of the portraits. They shuffled and looked around- but thankfully not at him. He grinned and continued to look in the office.

He saw a door leading to the old sod's quarters. A smirk quickly rose on his face and he dashed in. The old wizard's got to have something he could use!

But inside, all he found was an orderly and boring room. A plain, queen sized bed protruded from the wall in the middle and surrounding that was a wardrobe and a chest at the foot of his bed. But something did catch his eye. An old, musty, black hat sat on the top, slightly crouched over.

Harry walked up towards it, but he was too short to reach it. He frowned and pulled out his wand.

"_Wingardium leviosa_!" He whispered.

He performed the hand motion, aiming it at the hat and no more than a minute later, it was in his hands. He almost laughed.

_So the old man really is a stereotypical wizard. _

Feeling joyous and lighthearted, he mockingly put on the hat. He was a true wizard now, hat and all! Laughing, he eagerly opened the wardrobe and had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out.

The wardrobe was filled with frilly robes sewn together in colors that would make Petunia faint a million times over. They clashed horribly, but the old wizard didn't seem to care. In fact, Harry would wager the man _liked _it that way!

And so being the prankster he was, he couldn't pass this chance up. He once again took out his wand, and placed an enchantment upon the robes. The only catch was that the spell would lie dormant, so as to not catch the old man's attention.

He would activate when he was around to see it. Grinning, he closed the wardrobe and was about to leave when he saw a thin, silvery cloak neatly folded in the corner.

He felt drawn to it like none other; his eyes would simply not move away. His hands slowly reached into the wardrobe and picked up the cloak. He felt a smile unleashing upon his face. Just what was so special about this cloak? He hurriedly closed the wardrobe and looked around for the mirror.

He unfolded the long cloak and let its length billow down to the floor. Then he wrapped it around himself. Pleased that the whole thing fit snugly around him, he looked up. And blinked and blinked some more. He had no reflection. Why was that? But then he slowly realized.

It was an invisibility cloak!

Regulus had told him all about these and their perks. He had always wanted one but he couldn't go to Diagon Alley without alerting anyone and neither could Regulus.

His grin widened and kept widening. He was ecstatic! He finally had an invisibility cloak within his grasp! But wait…His grin faded into a scowl. It was the old man's. But it was folded neatly into the corner of his wardrobe so maybe he didn't want it anymore? And why did he even have it…?

Unfortunately (or fortunately), those questions remained unanswered as he heard a loud noise coming from the office. Alert, he crept along the wall, opened the door just a pinch, and peered out.

His head snapped right back into the room. Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, looking rather flustered. His eyes were moving suspiciously around the room, darting between shadowed corners. Harry frowned. He probably should have guessed the office would have wards.

It was time to leave.

But since he was in the midst of pranking, his frown didn't last for long. After all, it was time for his distractions! And he had the perfect one! Grinning, he took out the pail and resized it. He took off the lid, and held it tightly, perfectly aware of the water sloshing within the bucket.

He gave the old man one last glance before he stepped out of the Headmaster's quarters. He couldn't help but feel thankful for the invisibility cloak. It would help so much with his pranks! He knew he probably shouldn't steal it but the cloak just felt _right_ in his hands.

He couldn't just leave it. He was drawn to it. And the fact that it was supposedly Dumbledore's made it all the more tempting.

He froze as the old man's gaze snapped to his area, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He suddenly stood up, the chair sliding back, and cautiously walked towards Harry. His right arm rose until they were parallel to the floor and only a few inches away from the Boy-Who-Lived.

The aging Headmaster kept up his zombie stride until something wet spilled through his hair and onto his face. His brows furrowed in confusion, his legs stopping short.

He looked up to see where the source was only to get hit smack dab in the face with a large, metal bucket!

Water rained down his robes, seeping through onto his skin. He spluttered, flabbergasted, and wildly shook off the pail. It took a few tries but eventually the bucket sailed off his head and onto the floor. What was happening today? He asked himself.

Who did this- this obscene action to him, the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts?

If he had been a little less confused and a little more aware, he would have noticed a distinct sound of laughter resonating behind him. But after a few seconds of not noticing it, the noise suddenly stopped, leaving Albus Dumbledore to ponder the strange happenings of today alone.

* * *

Regulus was having a nice cup of tea when an invisible force of wind slapped him in the face.

He jumped and spilled his tea all over him. He groaned, wincing, as the scalding hot liquid oozed down into his clothes, and therefore his skin. He angrily hissed curses at the wind as he stood up. He scrambled around for his wand, also cursing himself for leaving it in some unpalatable place.

"Looking for this?"

Regulus jumped once again, clenching his fists. He turned around and glared at the ten-year-old absentmindedly twirling his short, brown wand in his right hand.

"Give me that!" he snapped, snatching the wand out of the boy's hand.

The boy held his hands up in surrender, smirking at the older of the two. Regulus stepped up his glare at the younger, even as he cleaned himself off. He proceeded to work on the couch, muttering curses at the bloody Boy-Who-Lived.

Soon, everything was immaculate once more and Regulus sat back down on the couch, sighing. What was he going to do with that boy? He was just about to ask Harry a question when he saw a familiar old hat sitting on the young wizard's head. He gawked.

"Where did you get that?" he cried.

Harry just blinked at him, before following his line of sight. He touched the hat and picked it off his head.

"This? Oh, the old coot's office. Why?"

Regulus just stared incredulously at the boy.

"'Why'_? Why! That's the Sorting Hat, you blithering idiot!"_

Harry just cocked his head.

"The what?"

"_The Sorting Hat_! It's how students get sorted into their houses!"

Harry stared at it.

"Oh."

Regulus almost exploded. The boy stole a priceless artifact and all he could say was 'oh'? He shook his head, exasperated. This boy really was a piece of work.

"You need to bring it back. And why were you at Hogwarts anyway? Didn't I tell you to be careful?"

Harry grinned and pulled out what looked like a small, square piece of paper. But on second glance, Regulus saw it was a photo- a moving photo. Harry tossed it to Regulus, who caught it warily, suspicious of what he may find.

And he had reason to be.

It was a picture of a pail of water falling down on the unsuspecting head of Albus Dumbledore. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. His shoulders shook as he held in his laughter.

"You pranked…the old codger?"

This time Regulus let out his laughter- a wail of exuberance.

Harry grinned.

"Of course. And I got the Sorting Hat as you call it, even if I didn't mean to... I also found an Invisibility Cloak. You want to see?"

Regulus sighed and reluctantly handed Harry his photo.

"You could make a lot of money out of that. There are people who would pay to see that."

Harry smirked in reply and shoved the photo back into his pocket. He took out a neatly folded cloak. Regulus' eyes widened. He recognized that cloak. He took it out of Harry's hands and examined it more closely. Yes, there was no mistaking it.

This was the cloak of James Potter; the cloak that the Marauders' used to pull massive pranks. Harry watched him curiously, wondering why his mentor seemed to be familiar with the cloak.

At last, Regulus spoke.

"This is your father's cloak. I don't know why the old coot would have it…" He trailed off as Harry's face hardened. His eyes narrowed and he looked away.

Regulus handed it back to Harry.

"It is rightfully yours."

Harry seemed to relax as the cloak rested upon his lap. He leaned back into the chair, staring at the ceiling. Regulus waited for him to speak, respecting his silence.

"So tell me more about the Sorting Hat." He finally spoke, but his voice sounded far off.

Regulus knew that the boy had no intention of returning the Sorting Hat, not after he found out Dumbledore kept yet _another_ thing from him.

"The Sorting is a prestigious ceremony where student after student puts on the Hat to be placed in a house pertaining to their characteristics. I already told you about the four houses: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin.

"Ravenclaw is for the witty and knowledgeable; Hufflepuff is for the loyal and hardworking; Gryffindor is for the brave and courageous; and Slytherin is for the cunning and ambitious. The Hat essentially reads your mind to place you. Albus Dumbledore may be a certified Legilimens but he cannot individually go into another's mind without permission. And that would take way too long. So you understand why the Sorting Hat is important?"

Harry shrugged. "Yes, but I'm not bringing it back. That manipulating bastard isn't getting off so easy for this."

He gestured to the cloak in his lap.

Regulus sighed. He knew it would come to this.

"You'd be making it hard on everyone else as well. You're not the only one that has to be Sorted you know."

Harry sent him a smirk. "Yes, I know."

Regulus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Harry? What are you going to do-"

But before he could finish, the kid disappeared from the chair, sending one last grin towards his mentor. Regulus sighed and shook his head.

Hogwarts was going to be in for one hell of a year- heck maybe even seven years!

* * *

**AN: XD I hope you enjoyed it! And thank ALL of you that favorited this, alerted this, and/or reviewed! It really means a lot to me! And so, you know what I'm going to say. PLEASE REVIEW! And also you know that big chunk of dialogue Regulus had? Did I break that up right? I'm not entirely sure...**

**~Peridot15:)**


	4. His Antics

Albus Dumbledore stared at his wardrobe in worry.

Someone had placed an enchantment on his possessions; his favorite robes. He could sense the magic stirring up the air. The enchantment seemed to be dormant; meaning the intruder most likely had no time to finish the spell. Dormant spells usually faded in a month or two, so Albus decided it was alright.

And besides, until then, he could not take it off. Dormant spells, this one in particular, can only be taken off or activated by the castor. Its one of the more complex, albeit frustrating, rules of magic.

But that wasn't even the worst part. After being rained on the other day, Albus had gone to check if anything was ajar or missing. And to his disappointment, there was. The Sorting Hat had been stolen as well as James Potter's invisibility cloak.

Albus was rather rattled. How would the students be sorted without the Hat? How would he manage to completely sway Harry over without the cloak? Albus sighed. He'd have to manage. But he did want both of those items back; perhaps he'd schedule a search later on…

Albus frowned. Why should he even need to search for it? Who would steal such things and invade his office? He couldn't see a connection between the two except- Albus paled.

They were both magical artifacts.

Did that mean the thief was going around stealing legendary heirlooms? He'd have to warn other owners if such a thing were to be true, Nicholas being his first priority.

Who knows what would become of the Philosopher's Stone in the hands of a thief? Yes, he'd have to offer Nicholas protection- protection of his stone. He could guard it here at Hogwarts, but that wasn't enough, he knew.

He had to lure the thief out.

So he could get Hagrid to unconsciously spread the word and the thief would come running. The thief was powerful and cunning enough to invade his office- a feat that should be very difficult- but surely he or she couldn't withstand the combined force of Hogwarts and her residents?

He'd have the teachers place enchantments on the Stone. Then they'd lie in wait, until the thief revealed himself or herself.

With a final, decisive nod, Albus prepared to visit Nicholas Flamel.

* * *

Dudley knew there was something wrong as soon as he heard that voice- that _scratchy_ voice.

He was absolutely sure he was the only one in his bedroom so what could it be? He looked around his room, warily. And sure enough, the only other things populating his room were nonliving and could not have a voice. So was he imagining it? He immediately tossed the thought out.

Dudley Dursley was not delusional! With a satisfied huff, he returned to playing video games. But then he heard it again.

"Mind telling me where I am, boy?"

Dudley jumped, scared out of his wits, and reexamined his room. Once again he found nothing out of the ordinary except for an old, floppy magician's hat- his eyes widened. He jumped up, his back slamming against the wall and stared wide eyed at the hat.

What was a freakish thing doing in his room? He was about to shout when the hat _moved_. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. It seemed to shift and look at him, but that had to be impossible. Impossible. Hats don't move. Hats don't talk. Hats don't-

"Did you hear me or not? I asked where I am, boy. Will you answer me?"

Dudley had had enough.

"_Mom! Dad!"_ he screeched.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley appeared in his room no more than a minute later, Petunia with a frying pan and Vernon with a shot gun.

"What is it, son?"

Vernon's eyes travelled quickly over the room, looking for any oddities.

Dudley raised a shaking finger and revealed, "I-it was a hat…a t-talking h-hat…"

But when Vernon and Petunia looked at the shelf Dudley was pointing to, there was nothing there.

* * *

Vernon and Petunia watched Dudley more often in the next few days, half-believing and half-disbelieving their son's claim. After all, those bloody _freaks_ had promised to leave them alone if they look care of _him_.

But Vernon was questioning the validity of that promise when he heard an eerie, disembodied voice sounding behind him.

"Seven days…seven days before you die…"

Vernon whipped around; about to rebuke whoever was annoying him but there was no one there. Vernon gave an involuntary shudder and made sure to keep his shotgun very close to him within the next few days.

* * *

With both her husband and son acting weird and jumpy as of late, Petunia tried to remain as normal as she could but she still noticed the tension in the air.

She even kept throwing backward glances over her shoulder once Vernon had told her what had happened to him. She had scoffed at it and called it ridiculous but secretly, she was frightened.

What if the house was haunted? What if those _freaks _were behind this? It couldn't be the boy because he had no clue about his freakish heritage.

_Thankfully, _Petunia added.

She didn't think she could deal with the boy knowing right now. She didn't want Dudley knowing either; she wanted to keep him as innocent as long as she could. But with her luck, that was unlikely.

Really, she should have expected the incident. But she, of course, thought she was safe and sound in her cozy, _normal_ home. That wasn't the case. When she woke up and saw the abomination clothing her body, she promptly shrieked and fainted.

Later, she would wonder if the monstrosity covering her body was a nightmare- a _horrible, terrible_ nightmare- because when she woke up, the navy blue, green, and orange bathrobe was gone- replaced by her regular nightwear.

* * *

Harry Potter was bored.

And when Harry Potter was bored, good things never happened. He still had the invisibility cloak and the Sorting Hat (which he found could talk) that he wasn't planning on returning anytime soon. But he still had no clue as to what to do with it.

He had mostly kept his mouth shut around the hat, believing that the Hat could possibly tell the old coot about what had transpired; that was if it ever got back into the old Headmaster's hands. It was unlikely but Harry still had to be cautious; a lesson better learned early in life.

Or in Harry's case, a lesson Regulus had drilled into him for four years- and kept mentioning it! And yet, none of this solved Harry's original problem: what to do with the hat. He supposed as annoying it was, it could function perfectly as a revenge tool.

("Oi, where am I? Who are you? Did you kidnap me? Albus!")

The Hat would definitely annoy someone endlessly if he cast a specific sort of spell on it. Harry smirked.

_Revenge tool it is._ At least, it will be. Whoever pisses him off first, he decided.

Though Regulus might have already taken the prize on that, he didn't really count. While Harry didn't exactly announce it to the world, he sort of looked up to Regulus as a father figure, since his real one had died.

Vernon didn't exactly meet the qualifications and there weren't many other competitors that he'd seen on more than one occasion. And so, even as pissed as Harry might turn out to be at the man, he'd never send a horrible prank his way.

Just a few minor ones, perhaps. He had to keep the man on his toes after all, or else Regulus would grow soft.

"Oi! You! Kidnapper! Answer me!"

Harry ignored the annoying hat yelling at him from under his makeshift bed in his tiny cupboard. With the way his thoughts were going, he supposed he was going to end up visiting Regulus soon.

His smirk widened and he Jumped, leaving behind a yelling Hat that was effectively scaring the Dursleys'.

* * *

Regulus was taking an afternoon walk when he felt the intruder wards in his house go off.

He froze in mid stride, his posture quickly turning rigid. Questions inundated his mind. Who would break into his house? Were they magical or muggle? Or was it just Harry? At that thought, Regulus relaxed a little. Harry was probably just waiting for him to come back.

But usually when he came over and Regulus wasn't there, he left immediately. The boy had patience the size of a pea. And his wards told him the intruder was still in there. So was it really Harry or was he being robbed? He stiffened once again and fingered his wand.

Apparating would draw a bit of attention, especially if the intruder was a muggle burglar and Regulus was not intent on drawing the interest of the Ministry. He sped up his walking pace when, finally, his pasty, old house came into view just around the corner.

His heartbeat quickened as he neared his house; he had no idea what to expect.

He cautiously crept up the twisting sidewalk, not laying a foot on the grass. His porch was vacant except for perhaps a few dust bunnies and cob webs in the corners, but other than that- no sign of an intruder.

His mahogany door showed no signs of forced entry either, inferring that the intruder was either magical or Harry was staying longer than usual. Even so, he took his wand out, narrowing his eyes. His gaze slid over to his curtained windows. There were times like these that he wished he had not covered them.

He sighed and took out his key to unlock the door. He started pulling as soon as he heard the quiet _click, _signaling the door was open_._

But instead of the quiet, cautious entry he was expecting, a noise sounded- a _creak._ And it was coming from above him. He looked up, still pulling the door open. Just when he thought he had seen a bucket, the door cracked open all the way and something wet and gooey landed on his face.

Green slime blinded his eyes and dripped down onto his neck, his clothes –_everything._ He spluttered and tried to spit the disgusting green slime out of his mouth, unconsciously walking forward. But before he could wash his mouth of the substance, he tripped over something long and hard.

He tried to balance himself again by grabbing onto the walls but nothing was there- only air. Annoyance was growing at the back of his mind and he tried relentlessly to put a sock in it but tripping and falling didn't exactly help.

And he didn't only trip and fall; he landed face first into a bowl filled with what felt like feathers- he didn't know; he couldn't see!

If he thought it would stop there, he was wrong. A tingling feeling spread throughout his body- warm and luxurious. Regulus wasn't quite so sure the effect would be warm and luxurious though. He scowled, a tick mark forming on his forehead, and did everything to keep his irritation under control.

It would have worked had he had more self restraint. He was going to get the little bugger! That little prankster wasn't going to get the last say in this!

"Harry! You bloody, little git! I'm going to get you for this!" he shouted, or at least tried to shout.

Unfortunately, his shouting came across as a series of angry bird caws. His eyes widened. What the- but before he could ask that question a flash sparked his interest. His head whipped around and to his utter embarrassment, he saw Harry laughing, clutching a camera in his hands.

Regulus twitched. He sprang up and waddled (what the heck! It was like his feet had turned into those of a duck's!) to the little prankster with the sole intent to give him a piece of his mind.

"You- you- _I can't believe you_! Wait, actually I can, but _that's beside the point_! When I'm through with you, you're going-"

His intimidation rant might have worked if he wasn't speaking in indignant squawks and hoots. Harry just stood there, clutching his stomach, and laughing up a storm. Regulus glowered at him.

_Be mature. Be an adult. Be mature. Be an adult. _

He clenched his hands and gritted his teeth, trying not to look at the boy. But when the boy held up a photo- a moving photo- the last of Regulus' self restraint drained away.

The picture was of him in- _in bird form_! His face now sported a- a yellow beak! And where skin once was lay black feathers! Even his hair was replaced by them! His eyes were beady little black circles and not to mention that his arms and legs now had clusters of feathers poking out of his clothes!

His arm reached out to snatch the photo, but Harry tugged it away, still laughing like there was no tomorrow! If he allowed the boy to keep that, he'd have blackmail on Regulus for life!

He growled, even if it didn't sound like one, and cawed, "Give it here!"

Harry, of course, didn't since he couldn't speak bird. So Regulus whipped out his wand and furiously tried to break the enchantment. But everything he did just landed him with more and more feathers. Pretty soon, his shirt and pants were stretched to the brink of destruction by the little black things!

He had about had it!

He gestured to himself and shouted, "_Take it off_!"

Harry just stared at him with a smirk on his face and cupped his hand around his ear. Regulus snarled in frustration until a thought occurred to him…he smiled maliciously at Harry. Harry cocked his head at the sudden change in attitude, but didn't seem affected by it.

Regulus pulled out his wand and cast a single spell. And grinned when Harry started sprouting feathers.

_Take that, you brat! A taste of your own medicine as the muggles say! _

Harry looked down and watched as feathers doubled and tripled across his body. Then he smirked. Regulus' smile faded.

What was he up to…?

Harry pulled out his own wand and waved it, muttering something Regulus couldn't quite make out. But the effect he saw clearly- or rather _felt_ clearly. The feathers on both of them were receding and Regulus sensed the beak transforming back into a mouth.

A few minutes later, both of them were back to normal.

"You brat." he said resignedly, as he had every other time a prank had been pulled on him.

But the last of his anger and annoyance was swept away. He wasn't a bird (bird hybrid?) anymore! He grinned at Harry and ruffled his hair. Harry backed out of it; his hair was already messy enough.

"One day, you'll be wishing you never crossed me."

He smirked. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"And when will that be? The thirtieth century?"

Regulus' smirk widened.

"Go on, joke about it. But I will get you back one day."

He wouldn't really, but it doesn't hurt to keep Harry on the lookout, always cautious- just not paranoid.

Harry smirked.

"Sure. Later, R.A.B."

Then he disappeared into thin air. Regulus sighed fondly until he took a look in the mirror. He raised an eyebrow. He was sporting a hot pink tutu with puffy sleeves and small ballerina slippers. He shook his head, amused.

"That brat!"

* * *

By the time Harry returned home, he found the Dursleys' huddled together in the kitchen corner, shaking like leaves.

Each had their own weapon: Vernon had a shotgun, Petunia had a frying pan, and Dudley had a PlayStation controller. Harry stared at them, bemused. They didn't even seem to notice his presence. What was going on?

"Oi! Let me out of this pit! I swear I'll-"

Ah, so that's it. After a few more less than appropriate words from the Hat, Vernon finally snapped. He stood up, his expression one of fearful anger.

"That does it! Everyone be back here in five minutes with some clothes! We're going away, _far away_!"

No one dared argue, not even Dudley. But Harry wanted to. How was he supposed to get away with seeing Regulus now? He shrugged. He'll think up something.

If the Dursleys and Harry had stayed -perhaps another minute or two- they would have noticed an owl carrying a single envelope towards their home.

* * *

**AN: Sorry this took a little longer to get out. School's started back where I am and it's absolutely terrible. TOO MUCH WORK! DX Well on that happy note, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! =D I did my best to make it funny! Also, thank EVERYONE who read, reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story. It means a lot! And so...PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	5. His Letter

"Why me?" Severus Snape drawled, clearly not happy with the proceedings.

Dumbledore frowned inwardly; he had expected opposition.

"Because, Severus, you are the only person available right now. Minerva has some last minute planning to take care of as do I. Hagrid is occupied with a job I need him to do quickly and quietly and I am currently caught up with trying to persuade Mr. Flamel to let us protect his stone. And with young Mr. Potter in an entirely different country, you are the only one I trust for such an important task. Do you understand now?"

Snape scowled grimly, but nodded. Dumbledore beamed—that was one problem taken care of, now he had about two more. An owl fluttered onto his desk, screeching, as it waited for Albus to put the enveloped parchment into its beak. Severus may be taking one to Harry but one could never be too prepared.

"Thank you, Severus. Here is the letter. I'll let you be on your way now."

* * *

Two months.

Two months since the Dursleys' had last seen their home. Two months since they had last settled in one place for more than a week. Two months since Harry had last seen Regulus. And two months in which the Dursleys had continuously kept his Hogwarts letters from him.

Harry was starting to regret taking that Sorting Hat ever at all. Albeit, even if he hadn't taken it, he would bet everything he owned the Dursleys would _still_ keep the letters from him.

Even so, that wasn't Harry's main concern.

Harry had barely any time to pull any pranks, much less plan them, with the rate that the Dursleys' kept packing up and fleeing. They hadn't been particularly kind to him (other than keeping his own mail from him), but they hadn't been downright nasty either, so Harry was growing lax in the justice department.

He was a bit busy trying to get rid of the Sorting Hat, anyway. The Hogwarts letters could wait; he already knew everything they had to offer anyway. And besides, it was because of that Hat that the Dursleys' moved and kept moving.

Harry found himself annoyed when he'd finally adjusted to his new surroundings and _boom-_ they'd be in a new place the next day or so. It was just plain irritating. And it was all that stupid Hat's fault.

It was also the Hat's fault that they were currently heading to baggage claim in a French airport.

Somehow, the Dursleys' had figured that England wasn't safe enough, so perhaps France would be. But they had forgotten the_ tiny_ matter of the language problem. They were lucky that most of the airport attendants could speak English.

As the Dursleys procured their luggage, Harry found his mind wandering.

He didn't have any luggage anyway, not really, so he didn't care if everything was in order. The Dursleys, on the other hand, had enough baggage to put a packrat to shame—and none of it even foretold about what they had stored at home.

Harry watched coolly as they went through procedures, but he stayed away. In fact, he was just about to sit down on a rickety old bench when he heard an out of place hoot—the high-pitched hoot of an _owl_.

His interest piqued, he turned around to look for the source.

Perhaps today would be much more interesting than he originally thought.

* * *

Snape cursed the old coot.

He didn't want to do this job—this lowly task. He didn't want to have to place his eyes on the brat anymore than he had to; he didn't want to be reminded of Potter nor Lily—he ended that thought. He would not dwell on the past today.

He looked around the muggle airport with a scowl. It was incredibly dull and organized, he saw. The airport remained a metallic color, brimming with metal monsters and other absurd technology that they'd managed to come up with since the time he had last ventured into the muggle world.

Snape's nose took a lift into the air; muggles were so pathetic. But he wasn't here to slander the non-magical population; he was here to deliver the letter to the brat and be done with it. Dumbledore would probably want him to take him to Diagon Alley, but he'd said nothing of the sort in his directions.

So Snape could turn a blind eye on that part.

Speaking of eyes, his were searching the muggle structure frantically, looking for what he assumed to be a mop of messy black hair. The Potter scion didn't inherit Lily's beautiful, bright red shade.

After a few minutes of standing in a defensive position with his arms and face crossed (a surprisingly effective method of warding off muggles), he saw the boy—a short, skinny, little boy with a mop of black hair and oversized clothes. And he was seemingly talking to thin air.

Snape smirked—it seemed fitting, almost justifiably so, that Potter's kid would be loony.

He began to swiftly approach the kid, his hand reaching inside his black coat (he had to wear _muggle _clothes) for the letter. His gaze must have been intense, because the kid turned and looked straight at him. The boy froze and seemingly _whimpered_, glanced at the dwindling distance between them, and _ran_.

"_Help_! A bad guy's after me! Help!" a high-pitched, yet boyish voice yelled.

Snape twitched and picked up the pace. Of course the brat would try to get attention. He _hated_ having to perform this menial task. And he would grow to hate it even more with the next few events.

Unfortunately for Snape (and his employer), his hand was still in his coat and he was most certainly _not_ walking.

Near the exits, the security guards were quite content to ignore the shout—it was probably a troublemaker— and continue drinking their coffee. But then they saw the man. A scowling, suspicious man chasing the boy with his hand reaching inside his coat—their eyes widened.

They shot up out of their seats, some screeching at the hot, scolding liquid of morning coffee falling on their pants and others completely focused on the suspicious person. They whipped out their guns, yelled orders in rapid French and pursued.

"_Freeze right where you are and drop the gun_!"

* * *

When Harry heard the shout, he stuffed the letter in his pocket and gave the barn owl one last pat before turning his attention to the scene in front of him. He blinked and blinked again.

Was that who he thought it was?

A tall, thin man with a hooked nose and greasy, black hair dashed passed him with his right hand latched inside his coat. Severus Snape, perhaps? The man was chasing a kid scared out of his wits—a boy who had an uncanny resemblance to Harry.

Regulus had told him about Snape, about how he hated his father and was a schoolmate of the man. But other details including the man were even worse than that, details that Harry's mind didn't care to recall.

Although, Harry _did_ recall that the man was mercilessly pranked by his father and his father's friends. Harry grinned; time to continue the family legacy. Being chased by the police wasn't enough, not in Harry's mind. And, besides, he was getting bored anyway.

The Hat could be put on hold for now. He's got to introduce himself somehow, if his assumptions were correct and the man was chasing after 'him'.

A smirk formed on his face as he slipped off to prepare a welcoming present for the man.

* * *

Snape had never felt so silly in his life.

He was being chased by the muggle law enforcers for absolutely no reason! He didn't have a weapon (that the muggles were aware of) and he didn't want to stop in the middle of his task to confirm that fact.

So he kept after the kid.

He jumped over multiple metal levers and tables, darted around the throngs of people and was sweating worse than a pig. He was not one for physical exercise. After all, when he accepted this task, he didn't think he'd be running in circles!

One would think the boy would want to receive his letter to attend a magic school! Though, Snape, of course, did not take into account that he looked like an assassin. He saw the black, muggle outfit in a random shop and bought it as it was to his liking.

How was he to know that the outfit was a common apparel choice of the average serial killer?

Snape stopped, panting heavily, and barricaded the boy from escaping the corner in which he'd trapped him within. He glared at the boy, before starting to take out the letter, allowing himself to catch his breath.

This was why he liked robes, they were just breezy enough so he wouldn't sweat through them—unlike these tight, fitting muggle suits.

But all too soon fearful screams broke his train of thought. He glowered at the source—the boy cowering in the corner. He was calling for his mother, wet tears leaking out of his blue eyes and trailing down his cheeks.

He looked like that idiot Pettigrew that Potter had hung around.

_Wait a minute…_Snape faltered, his hand gripping the letter freezing within his coat. Calling for mother? Blue eyes? His eyes widened and he took a step back.

The Potter brat had Lily's eyes—Lily's beautiful, green eyes. He scowled. This wasn't the Potter brat. He was just about to turn around when he realized the little coward had stopped shrieking like a banshee. The kid had a sort of relieved and hopeful expression, staring at something behind Snape.

With a sense of foreboding, Snape slowly turned around and came face to face with a squadron of police officers each holding black guns—all trained towards him.

They had on the standard blue themed uniforms, but Snape found slightly curious trails of recently acquired brown stains running along the sides of their once clean pants.

He didn't even have the chance to further that train of thought—not that he'd want to—before the leader started firing rapid orders in French, a language Snape had very little knowledge of.

They glared at him and cautiously crept forward—matching each step Snape took backwards.

Snape sneered at the muggles, backing away until he bumped into something fleshy. A shriek of fright sounded behind him and he felt something rub against his legs. A blur of black and blue followed the peculiar sensation, leaving Snape slightly dumbfounded.

And then he realized.

The little brat had crawled in between his legs and scrambled away! He twitched and was just about to snap at the annoying kid when a dark gleam of metal caught his eye. Snape's eyes narrowed; that's right—he had yet to deal with the officers.

He cursed and frantically looked for an opening. But they had every route covered. Only—Snape frowned. He had an idea but he'd feel extremely silly doing it.

Had the group been wizards, he would have used a stunning spell or two, but these were muggles and since he wasn't physical, he had to resort to less _honorable_ strategies.

"Look! Unicorn!"

He pointed over somewhere to the right and was rewarded when they turned their attention behind them. Not even hesitating for a single moment, Snape bolted around the idiotic police officers and headed straight for the mass of people crowding around the metal machines.

* * *

"And why does my stone need your protection? I have a vault in Gringotts, Albus, why can't I just keep it there—if the stone was really in danger that is?"

That was a valid question with an excellent point, but Albus had a counterargument. He would win this verbal spar with Flamel, he knew it. He smiled at the frail-looking man, close in appearance to the old Headmaster, only _much_, much older.

"Nicholas, my dear friend, have I not told you? The goblins cannot hold their own against the workings of Voldemort, only thieves. And Voldemort is no petty thief. Gringotts cannot guarantee your stone's protection, but Hogwarts can. There are very many hiding places and secret passages to place the stone in and many accomplished teachers to oversee and protect it with the magic in which they were gifted. Can you not see that, old friend?"

Flamel studied Albus sharply, narrowing his eyes at the man's manipulations. He knew he shouldn't give in, but the man would keep pestering him until he consented. And besides what was the harm in getting a bit of extra protection for his stone of miracles?

He could always get it back one way or another if he felt that the 'protection' was unfit anyway. He sighed. Albus Dumbledore was a force to be reckoned with when he wanted something.

"Fine, you can have your way. But I expect the utmost care or I'm taking it back myself."

Albus smiled and agreed. Flamel had relented an hour earlier than he had expected. Preparations would be made another day; right now he had to check on Severus—he was taking awfully long for such a simple task.

Perhaps something had gone wrong? He quickly apparated to the airport where he knew the Potions master to be.

* * *

Snape was having a horrible experience in the muggle airport.

It seemed that the universe was out to get him today. Not only had he been launched into a quarrel with the muggle law enforcement, he'd also been subjected to terrible physical abuse. He moaned and groaned inwardly at the throbbing bruises on his left side.

He'd been pushed and shoved into the metal machines too many times to count by the crowd that was supposed to be his cover. But they seemed to side against him without even realizing it—something that made the insult all that much worse.

He grumbled under his breath, cursing the old coot and the Potter brat.

Why did he have to have been assigned to this? And why couldn't the insolent little tyke sport a sign that said 'Potter Brat' on his head? Then he wouldn't be going through all of this just to give him one measly letter!

A piercing pinch on his right arm brought him back to reality. But not in time to stay on his own two feet. He fell with several curses on soft, bony flesh—his head landing on the hard metal floor.

He tried his best to ignore to pounding pain in his head and wished with all his might that Madame Pomfrey were near. Of all things, his _head_ had to land on the floor? Why not a knee of hand?

He glared at the shining floor before being pulled out of thought by an ear shattering shriek. Snape wanted to shriek himself as he speedily clambered off the person.

He won't be able to hear for a week!

To his utter surprise, he recognized the thin, bony woman on the floor looking like she had swallowed a particularly sour lemon.

Snape's mood plummeted beyond repair. It was Lily's sister—Lily's jealous,_ non_-magical sister. He couldn't remember her name and was very glad at the fact, but she apparently remembered his. S

he screeched once again as she caught his face and backed away on the floor until she was hiding behind a big, beefy, blonde man with a gut the size of England. Snape sneered at them both as they went pale with fear.

The man looked around frantically and picked up what looked like a child's toy—an over-muscled doll—and waved it at Snape, yelling a bunch of stuttered threats. The man looked like he was about to wet his pants. Snape ignored the man and set about picking himself up.

He looked around once more, still caught up in the chase for the Potter brat who—the burning realization finally hit him. Lily's sister, Potter's _aunt_. He smirked. The brat would be around this family then. He had to be.

His eyes wandered over the proximity of the group, but he only saw a shaking family huddling together out of fear. They disgusted him. How could this dreadful woman share blood with Lily, the bravest woman he ever knew?

He dismissed the thought and returned to his search. The sooner he was out of here, the better.

But he'd forgotten about his stalkers. The group of police officers came bounding out of nowhere with their guns raised high in the air and their game faces on. As soon as they caught sight of the suspicious person, they attacked, weaving skillfully through the crowd, an ability Snape had needed a while ago.

Snape saw them coming just in time. With a curse of his bad luck, he bolted. He darted around the cowering family and threw one last desperate glance for the Potter scion.

Just a mob of messy black hair perhaps, or Lily's beautiful emerald eyes and he could be on his way.

Fortunately for him, the universe seemed to spare him this time around. He caught the shade of green trained right at him, confused but focused.

He thanked whatever deities he didn't believe in and headed straight for the kid, hand reaching into his coat once more—only to be stopped by a blow to his shoulder.

He hit the ground no less than an inch or so away from the boy's feet—head spinning and vision swimming—with officers surrounding him from every which way.

Just when he'd almost completed this task, too!

Snape felt like hitting someone, preferable the old coot that had sent him to do this.

Easy task?

Snape answered that question with enough curses to make a sailor blush.

* * *

To say that Albus was surprised when he learned of Severus' _unusual_ circumstances was an understatement.

Not to mention that it also had created a huge dent in his plans! He was supposed to be in his office marveling over how well everything had gone, not trying to think of a way to bail his Potions Professor out of muggle jail!

It was a good thing he could perform an excellent translation spell or Severus might have been locked up for a month more than needed.

"_May I ask what my…charge has done wrong?"_ Albus asked the officers in their native language.

Usually, he enjoyed the presence of muggles, but now he wasn't so amused.

The officer—a tall, thin man in his mid-thirties with a strict demeanor—scowled as he looked at the old man dressed like a character from _Lord of the Rings_. He was not having a very good day, especially after his cup of blissful, morning coffee had been lost to his pants.

_"Your charge chased a minor, pretending to wield a weapon, and evaded law enforcement when politely asked to stop. He has also vandalized some of our security equipment. This, of course, will lead to repercussions so be prepared to find legal defense-_"

Albus frowned at the implications. That certainly wouldn't do, so he needed to find an excuse and quick. He didn't want to obliviate the muggles, but if he had to, he would.

But first he should try to use his brain for a solution, such as—he smiled. Severus would not like what he had in mind, but it was the first and fastest way to get out of the charges.

"_Pardon my interruption, but I believe I have a reason for all of these crimes. I'm terribly sorry and apologize on his behalf, but this was not his fault."_

The officer narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

"_How so?"_

Albus gave the man a kind, gentle smile.

"_Severus here had always been a bit…mentally challenged."_

Snape, who had performed a translation spell himself, scowled immensely—fists shaking and eyes narrowing. He was bubbling with rage. How dare that old man imply he was insane! Especially to a _muggle_!

The man stared, surprised, before he slowly relaxed.

"_With a name like that? Yeah, I'll bet. And why, if he is a mental case, was he allowed to roam around unattended?"_

Albus' smile faltered. "_Ah, that was perhaps my fault. He escaped from my sight when I was preoccupied with the regular procedures. I apologize."_

The officer sighed. "_Alright, I'll put in a word to drop all charges. But until then, keep him on a leash will you?_"

Snape reared back, disgusted. He couldn't take this-this _insanity_ anymore.

"_Obliviate_!"

* * *

Harry was a little disappointed that the police had caught Snape before he could pull his prank.

He frowned. He'd had an invisible toilet ready and everything! It would have been a nice game of Dunk-The-Teacher! He scowled. Next time, then. He walked back to the Dursleys' and was unsurprised to find them shaking in fear as they gathered their belongings.

They didn't pay him any heed as they started to walk out—too caught up with their near-magic experience. Harry shook his head, amused. He couldn't wait to see what things would happen when they knew he knew about magic. Oh the family fun they would have!

He smirked and started to catch up to the family of three. But before he could do that, he bumped into something soft and firm.

He quickly backed up and looked up and up some more, keep going, keep going…Good grief, did he bump into a mountain? He wasn't _that_ short! Finally when he reached the face, he saw a woman—a huge, towering woman with sleek black hair and matching eyes.

Slightly surprised, he murmured a quick apology and was about to leave when he noticed the dark, satin robes. She was witch, then. A French witch in a muggle airport? Weird…and suspicious, Harry decided. But oh well, it wasn't his concern.

The woman also gave him an apology but in French, seeming to have missed his English. He just blinked at her, before shrugging it off. He walked around her and had only just taken a step when he heard a familiar old, gentle voice.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise. Good morning, Madame Maxime. Might I ask—how is your school fairing?"

It was the old geezer himself: Albus Brian Wulfric Nosy Manipulative Percival Dumbledore.

Harry froze, and snuck a peek behind him, just as the woman began to reply. Oh it was him alright, him and a particularly irritated Snape. Wonder what had his knickers in a twist, because it certainly wasn't Harry.

He hadn't the chance to give him with welcoming present…yet. Harry grinned, heading for his invisible toilet. Now was the perfect time!

He stepped behind the giant woman, careful to keep out of the old coot's sight. It was just a few yards away…three…two…one—he slammed into yet another person. The impact sent him hurtling to the floor and he winced at the hard collision.

The metal floor was definitely not designed for klutzes to walk upon. He quickly picked himself back up, giving a brief glance at the two blondes—a man and a boy—before muttering an apology.

He was just about to walk around them when he heard, "Harry, my boy! There you are!"

He stopped, inwardly cursing. The old man had seen him! Well, no use running now, that would be slightly suspicious. He slowly turned around to see the beaming Headmaster, his scowling lackey, and a confused French witch.

"'Arry, you say? Do you mean 'Arry Potter?"

All attention focused on him, even the two he'd just bumped into.

Studying them, Harry saw that they must be father and son; they both had platinum blonde hair—although the man's was longer—they both harbored an aristocratic demeanor and they both had an ugly sneer on their face—relieved only by a look of curiosity. The boy had to be around Harry's age, if not a little older.

He reminded Harry of a magical Dudley; his father reminded him of a trimmer, magical Vernon. Well, perhaps a trimmer, colder, more aristocratic—Harry ended that thought. Never mind, the man was nothing like Vernon.

"Dear boy, we have been searching for you everywhere for quite some time. Now I believe that it is time for an explanation and a letter. Severus?"

Snape pulled out a letter with a Hogwarts crest sealing the envelope. The giant woman looked on with interest—as well as the other two males—as Snape cut the distance between them.

But just before the letter could fall into Harry's hands, the giant woman blocked the old coot's lackey. He scowled and tried to go around her, but the woman wouldn't budge.

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes at the woman towering above him.

She gave him a brief stare before looking back at Dumbledore, whom of which looked about as happy as Snape.

"'Arry Potter 'as not been invited to 'Ogwarts yet? Zen you understand, Professor Dumblydore, zat 'e is still eligible for Beauxbatons?"

Dumbledore smiled, a hard glint hidden in his eyes.

"He was, Madame Maxime, but the letter has been delivered. So unless he refuses-"

"No, as I understand it, 'e is fair game until 'e 'as opened ze letter." 'Madame Maxime' interrupted, smiling.

As soon as Harry heard that, he discreetly backtracked to his invisible toilet. He promptly flushed the Hogwarts letter from earlier down the toilet and walked back, whistling a quiet tune and looking anywhere but at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore frowned. This had not been in his master plans.

"Yes, but-"

"Zen it is settled. 'E can still come to my school."

The woman looked towards Harry and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a single word out, Dumbledore spoke again.

"I'm afraid, Madame Maxime, that Harry will not like it at Beauxbatons. It is very far away from his home and he probably doesn't speak French. It is for the best that he comes to Hogwarts."

"Zen 'e can learn ze language, Dumblydore. And 'ow vould you know 'ow 'e felt about leaving 'is 'ome? 'E is 'ere, no?" Maxime challenged.

Dumbledore frowned and spoke once again, initiating a heated argument between the two. But one of them felt it was necessary to hide their fervor behind smiles (cough, cough—Dumbledore—cough, cough).

Harry watched with amusement until he felt parchment brush lightly against his skin. His gaze turned upwards and right—catching the epitome of grouchiness—the old coot's number one crony—trying to discreetly shove the letter into his hands.

Harry just stared at him, unnerving the professor a bit.

Snape inwardly growled. Why wouldn't the _bloody_ letter open?!

"Fine, zen. Ve Vill let ze boy decide!"

They both turned to him and Snape quickly slid out of range, sourly dragging the letter with him. They both stepped forward at the same time, crowding around Harry, but the old codger spoke first.

"The Dursleys' have spoken to you about Hogwarts and magic, haven't they Harry?"

Hmm…to lie or not to lie…

Harry nodded his head with wide eyes, inwardly thanking his acting skills. The world wouldn't be half as fun without them. Dumbledore beamed.

"Excellent. As you probably have heard, Hogwarts is one of the top magical schools in the country-"

Harry almost snorted.

_Country._ There was only one magical school in the whole country, wasn't there?

Did the old coot think he was stupid? Well, he probably thought Harry was going into Gryffindor meaning he thought Harry was reckless and foolhardy so it was a possibility.

"-watch closely now, dear boy. I'm going to show you something you'll learn at Hogwarts."

He pulled out a long, dark stick—his wand—and raised it above his head. But before he could utter a single spell, Snape came bounding out of nowhere cursing at something behind him. Harry grinned, unable to contain his amusement. The squadron of police officers from earlier was after him again.

"I do _not_ have a bloody gun!" the potions master yelled behind him, before tripping over a small, metal machine and colliding headfirst into his employer.

The force hurled Dumbledore forward, straight at the blonde boy. Events seemed to happen in slow motion as Dumbledore's face openly showed shock for the first time in years. The blonde boy mirrored a similar horrific expression—especially when Dumbledore crashed into him, sending them both to the hard floor.

But, unfortunately for Dumbledore and the blonde boy (and perhaps the onlookers), Dumbledore's hands were a bit wild.

In an attempt to steady himself, the old Headmaster grabbed something squishy and small belonging to the blonde boy—something that grew between the stomach and the thighs; a part of male anatomy that only the owner should ever accidentally touch at such a young age.

As soon as Dumbledore realized, his eyes widened in horror and he immediately let go and stood up with a speed than they thought the old man could achieve. But the blonde boy was in an even worse shape.

He shook and trembled on the ground, terrified and embarrassed—almost as red at his father. Dumbledore hastily apologized to them before turning his attention to a similarly horrified witch and a pretending-to-be-traumatized boy who was secretly amused beyond belief.

Snape was currently in the process of being recaptured by the police officers. Harry had no idea why, though. Didn't they already clear that up? But Harry still enjoyed the kicking and screaming Snape put up against the muggles.

"Zat is vhat you teach at 'Ogwarts? 'Orrible! Disgusting! No vonder there are so many European wizard stereotypes! 'Ogwarts is not fit to teach magic!"

She turned to the blonde boy and his father.

"And to zink you vere considering sending your son to 'Ogwarts!"

Madame Maxime did seem truly disgusted and if Harry wasn't the prankster he was, he would be to. But he knew more than he let on.

"Madam Maxime, please calm down. That incident was a grave mistake. I was pushed from behind into young Mr. Malfoy. That was not the intended result. Once again, I apologize."

The blonde boy on the floor simply nodded, seemingly still in that horrible trance. But the argument did not end there, it had just began.

Madame Maxime began to tell them (Harry and Malfoy) why they should attend Beauxbatons and as much as Harry agreed, pulling pranks there would not be as satisfying as they would be at Hogwarts. So he decided to end the matter once and for all. He played a harmless prank on Madame Maxime.

"Ve 'ave several breaks along ze course of ze year as vell as accomplished teachers 'oo can teach _excellently_-"

A large, booming farting sound broke through her speech. A smell accompanied it—the horrid scent of rotten eggs fused with that of a skunk's. Harry's nose wrinkled and his hand immediately clapped over it.

He didn't expect the smell to work this well!

Everyone stared at Madame Maxime who looked embarrassed beyond repair. Her face was red and horrified—most likely at herself.

"Excuse _moi_," she said after the awkward moment of silence, "but I must be going."

She disappeared with the usual _pop_ that accompanies Apparition. Harry blinked. Well that was easy. Dumbledore looked slightly surprised as well before he came back to his senses. A big, grand smile popped into existence on his wrinkled face.

"Well, shall we get started?"

* * *

Harry left the airport with his Hogwarts letter about thirty minutes later.

After Dumbledore had given him the letter and explained about Hogwarts and his history and yadda yadda yadda, he told him to run along—to which he was currently doing. He had to find to Dursleys' anyway.

They certainly didn't think twice about fleeing the airport without their fourth 'family' member. But even as Harry Jumped from the structure, he couldn't help but feel that he was forgetting something.

Oh well, he shrugged.

Perhaps he'd remember later if it was that important.

* * *

After Severus' situation had been taken care of again as well as the business with Harry and the Malfoys, Albus was quite content to go to bed early.

He sighed, exhaustion leaking into his face. Age was catching up with him.

He was just about to follow Severus' example and leave when he felt a trail of magic stir the air around him as well as muffled noises. Curious, he followed his ears and his magical sense to the source.

Boy was he surprised to find an invisible toilet of all things!

He quickly rendered it visible and inspected the object. It was a bright white on the outside—shining clean even. But what was it doing here, invisible, in the middle of an airport? The muffled screams and shouts jolted his curiosity even more.

Cautiously, he pulled the lid up.

A spray of water slapped him in the face, invading his mouth and nose—filling his ears and stinging his eyes.

He spat it back out, frowning, and waved his wand. The stinging in his eyes disappeared with the rest of the water and he looked into the bowl. His eyes became as wide as saucers.

It was the Sorting Hat!

"Oh so you finally found me after _two bloody months,_ did you Albus? Well you know what? _I quit! _I'm done with this! Get a new Sorting Hat because I'm done with all of this magical business! I need a vacation…"

And just like that, the old, black hat flushed itself down the toilet before Albus could get in another word. He just stared at the toilet, disbelieving that the Sorting Hat—Hogwart's magical heirloom—had _quit_ its duty.

That shouldn't be possible! But stealing the Hat in first place shouldn't have been either. Which led Albus to question the how and why of the Hat's circumstances. But questions only seemed to pile up in his mind—questions that had no answers.

Albus sighed and rubbed his head, feeling a headache about to attack.

This would be a stressful year—or maybe it was just his age creeping up on him.

* * *

**AN: **I AM _SO SO SORRY_ FOR THE MONTH LONG WAIT! It's just I was caught up with school and other crap and-argh! Life isn't fair! But anyway, THANK ALL OF YOU WHO READ, REVIEWED, FAVORITED, OR FOLLOWED THIS STORY! =D I was feeling kinda guilty about the wait so I made this chapter long. Hope you enjoyed it and laughed a little! (Hint hint) Sorry if anything seems unrealistic or anyone seems OOC; I was in a rush to get this out. And also, I think I'm going to establish a hilarity meter- 1 through 10 on how funny a chapter is. 1 being _'as funny as cardboard'_ and 10 being_ 'my sides are splitting'_. If y'all are up to it, you can also do the previous chapters. ^_^ So anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! And don't forget about the hilarity meter...=D

~Peridot15:)


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